Hallelujah
by BlueBladeNova
Summary: Obscurely based on the over- used Leonard Cohen's Hallelujah, but I tried to approach this story differently than most people approach songfics. Also, Destiel porn. TRIGGER WARNING FOR SELF- HARM


**Hallelujah**  
><strong>Destiel<strong>

**A/N: This is obscurely based on Leonard Cohen's song Hallelujah. Overdone, I know, but I tried to approach this differently than most people approach songfics. Also, porn. Also, Destiel. Also, Destiel porn.**

Dean waited until the door closed behind Sam to jump up from the crappy motel bed and pull an equally crappy desk chair from the matching desk. He pulled the chair to the wall opposite the door, facing the corner. He abandoned the chair for a moment to carefully pick through his bag. He found the knife that he was searching for and sat in the chair, hunched over with his forearms resting on his thighs.

He expertly rolled the knife between his fingers while staring at the ugly motel wallpaper. His sleeves were rolled up, he was ready to go, so why was he hesitating?

He shook his head hard once and flipped his left forearm over. He pressed the blade into his skin. Blood didn't come magically spurting out like it does in bad fanfictions; like everything else in Dean's life, he had to work to get what he wanted.

He pressed the serrated end of the blade into his skin until there was a decent indent and dragged the knife to his right, pushing deeper as he pulled. The teeth of the blade pulled skin with it for a moment before raking themselves down Dean's forearm. It stung and smarted, but it wasn't enough. His skin was tough, and now there was only a pink lines with sensitive, raised white welts on either side. He puffed out a breath he wasn't aware of holding.

The pain was all good and everything, but he'd just rather get it over with. If he didn't need to see the blood, see the proof of his self- loathing, he wouldn't even bother with this stupid ritual.

Actually, he would. He was addicted to it. He just didn't know it yet. How ironic it was that the Winchester boys were both addicted to blood at a point in their lifetimes. The younger thirsted for the blood of demons, the older, his own.

Dean pressed the knife back into his arm, in the same place as before. It stung, but he grit his teeth and quickly jerked his wrist down and to his right. This time, blood creeped from under his skin and flowed out.

Dean must have blacked out, because next thing he knew, he was staring at five fresh, vivid incisions on his left forearm.

He suddenly felt that someone was with him. It was dead quiet, but he knew somebody was there, which meant...

"How long have you been there, Cas?"

The presence shifted. "Long enough to know how much you have been lying to Sam." Dean smirked and nodded self- deprecatingly. "Yeah..." For all his usual mockery and bravado, Dean found that now he had little to say. What the hell do you say in a situation like this anyways?

"Dean, let me heal your arm."

Dean had nearly forgotten that his arm was bleeding. Some clots had formed, but it left him a sticky mess, and Dean was too drained and emotionally strung- out to take ten steps to the bathroom and clean himself. So he nodded.

Castiel reached out and touched two fingers to Dean's shoulder. The cuts disappeared, leaving only pristine skin where the five cuts had been. "Thank you," Dean murmured.

Cas hadn't left. "Dean," he started, but Dean interrupted. "I don't expect you to understand, Cas. It's a human thing, okay? Humans aren't perfect like you angels. We need ways to cope, and that's all this is. Fly away now, feathery- ass." Dean wasn't sure why his tone tinged bitter at the end of his little lecture.

Castiel laid a hand on Dean's right shoulder, right above where the handprint burn was hiding underneath Dean's T- Shirt.

"Dean Winchester, I have watched humanity since before Adam and Eve left Eden. I have observed countless wars, rituals, and murders. I have watched countless humans lose themselves to despair and hopelessness. I have personally witnessed every method of self- hatred that humans have come up with. So believe me, Dean, when I tell you that you are better than this."

The muscles in Dean's throat froze and his jaw locked shut. "You're stronger than they were, Dean. You have carried more weight on your shoulders than they could ever dream of."

Dean wanted Cas to shut up, shut his stupid face right then and there. Every word he spoke was pissing him off more and more. But it was paralyzing him. He didn't even know why he was getting so angry.

"You are above this. Dean, let me help you. You constantly fall a little lower, but after you pick yourself back up, you rise up farther than you ever have before." Castiel's voice, usually so flat and calm and monotone, was taking on a tone that was becoming more compassionate... More desperate. "Cas, stick it where the sun don't shine and leave me alone, okay?" Dean hefted himself from the chair and looked down his nose at Cas. Castiel took a half- step backwards.

"Where are you going?" Castiel asked. His voice had gone back to it's usual deadness. "The bar," came Dean's short reply. He stepped around Cas and grabbed his jacket. He shrugged it on and took a step towards the door. He got no farther because Castiel's words nailed his feet to the floor.

"The bar is your solution for everything, isn't it, Dean?"

Dean slowly turned on the spot to give the trench- coated angel a look that clearly said, "Excuse me?"

There was a fire in Castiel's eyes. Blue fire, the hottest part of the flame. "The bar," he softly repeated. Dean couldn't see it, but Cas' heart was thudding in his chest, because he knew that he was about to toe a line he couldn't step back across. "Dean, all you can get at a bar is booze, and women. Here, you could get something infinitely better."

Dean's throat muscles, and leg muscles, started working again. He scoffed to himself and took long, aggressive strides over to Castiel until he was looking down at him again, towering over the angel.

"And what, Castiel-" he spit out his name like it was a curse- "can I get here?"

Castiel's eyes absolutely smoldered. With a hitched breath, Cas answered in a voice even huskier than normal: "Absolution."

This was just like the first time Castiel and Dean had first met in the flesh. Dean only had concrete facts to work with and live his life on, and Cas showed up in his life, quite uninvited, and asked him to believe in a whole other world, where there were Angels, a God, and maybe... Maybe forgiveness.

The two men stared at each other with hearts beating very quickly in their chests for very different reasons.

This was going to be a one- time thing, Dean could feel that already. This was no different then a hookup with a stranger. This was a band- aid. A temporary fix. But... He had been by himself for so long... If he had someone who loved him, and who he loved like this all the time... If he had Castiel all the time...

Dean slid a calloused hand up Castiel's neck, cupped his jaw, and harshly kissed him.

Castiel sucked in a breath and hungrily returned Dean's kiss. The ember of the kiss turned into full- blown fire. There were obscene moans and other noises from both parties. Saliva made everything slippery and exciting, and at some point, their teeth collided in a jarring clack. It was one of the sloppiest kisses Dean had ever had. It was also one of the hottest. Dean pulled away to breathe and wipe the gross excess saliva from his mouth. Cas did the same, instinctually, and their kiss resumed. This kiss was definitely more tender, sweeter. Dean gently stroked one of Cas' ears, and from the shudder he received, guessed that he had found a sensitive spot. He stored that in his brain for later use.

Dean noticed in the midst of it that Cas was tugging at Dean's jacket, clearly wanting it off. Dean let his hands fall from Cas' face to his shoulders, and smoothly slid the overcoat down Castiel's arms. He deftly slid his hands up Cas' shirt and yanked his tie loose. Meanwhile, Cas was lost in Dean's mouth, massaging his tongue onto Dean's and nibbling on his pouty lower lip.

This was what Castiel had wanted, not from the beginning, but for awhile. If this was love, he wanted so much more of it. Of Dean.

Dean slid the tie off of Castiel's neck and let it drop to the floor. He started unbuttoning Cas' white shirt and roamed his hands over every new bit of flesh that he discovered.

Cas jumped when the pad of Dean's thumb flicked over his nipple. He felt a rush of blood rush straight to his groin and from his earlobe to the shell of his ear. In a muddle of half- formed wants and needs, he shoved his hand up Dean's shirt. He felt the chiseled abs that a lifetime of hunting had given this man. He let his hands glide farther upward, over the abs and pectorals, and ended up pulling Dean's shirt over his head.

Dean tossed the shirt across the room carelessly and took a moment to appreciate Castiel's trim waist and slim torso before hooking his fingers into Cas' belt loops and pulling their crotches together.

They both hissed pleasurably at the friction, and Dean, being the more experienced of the two, remembered that sex was more fun without shoes and socks. He pulled down his shoes by the heel with the toes of the other shoe and curled his toes out of his socks. Castiel noticed what he was doing and followed Dean's lead.

Once Cas was out of his foot- wear, Dean bent down, grabbed the back of Castiel's thighs and lifted him. They were chest- to- chest with Cas' forehead barely brushing Dean's. Cas was now artificially taller than Dean. Castiel instinctively wrapped his legs around Dean's waist and grabbed the other's shoulders to steady himself. The two locked eyes just then. Castiel's eyes were so dark with lust that they were almost black. The heat between them, between their legs, was nearly unbearable. The extinguish some of the raging fire, they melded their lips together again. Dean slowly dragged his tongue against Castiel's lower lip. Immediately, Cas opened his mouth for Dean.

Dean was engulfed in flames, drowning, and suffocating all at once. He grabbed Castiel's ass and squeezed it until Cas moaned into his mouth. Their tongues twined together for a brief moment. "_That's it_," Dean thought. If they kept going like this, Dean was going to cum in his pants like a horny teenager. That was the last coherent thought that Dean really had.

Dean abruptly grabbed Castiel's thighs again and threw the poor guy onto the bed. Cas looked wounded for a brief moment before Dean swooped down on him and started wrestling with the button on his angel's pants. Once that was sorted, he put one of Cas' hands on the zipper and got to work on his own pants. Cas luckily got the message and shed his pants like an itchy snakeskin. Dean got out of his jeans and quickly descended on Castiel.

His hands landed palm- down on either side of Castiel's head. Dean braced himself over Cas with his hands and one knee on the bed between Castiel's legs. He bent down to suckle at Cas' neck and transferred his weight to one hand so he could run his hand up and down Cas' side. He thumbed Castiel's hip bone and slid his hand down to the elastic of Cas' boxers.

Cas' breath stuttered in his lungs. Dean looked up at Cas' face through gold lashes. Cas swallowed and nodded. Dean nodded in return and pulled away the boxers along with his own. Dean looked at Castiel again. He cleared his throat to say, "Cas, this is going to hurt." Castiel nodded. "I know."

Dean pressed his lips together and turned his attention away from Castiel to fish lubricant from his bag. (His excuse for having lube in his bag was _"In case I get so lucky that the chick wants anal.")_ He applied the lubricant to his fingers and gingerly spread Castiel's legs apart. Cas let his head fall back onto a pillow and clenched the sheets in his fists.

Dean slowly, carefully slid his finger into Cas. Cas' breathing picked up speed. "Cas, Cas, calm down or you'll pass out," Dean warned him with warning concern dripping into his tone. Cas struggled to take a deep breath and let it back out. "Good, Cas, just like that." He slid another finger into Castiel and gently twisted his fingers around. Castiel let out a low, pained grunt. "I know, Cas, I know, just hold on for me." Castiel's fists twisted in the sheets.

Cas could feel tears filling the corners of his eyes and leak down his temples. He was with Dean. He could scream, he could say a single word, and all of this would stop.

Which is exactly why he allowed it to continue.

Dean was stretching his insides over and over to accommodate his size, so he wouldn't break his angel. It brought Castiel warmth to think that Dean was taking care of him, trying to make sure Castiel wouldn't get hurt. Any wounds that Dean inflicted on Cas could be healed in seconds, but the effort Dean was putting into this was nice. Dean cared. It was wonderful.

Dean added a third finger. That's when Castiel started cussing. "Shit, shit, shit, Dean, Dean," and the curses dissolved into a long, drawn- out groan of pain. "Please, Cas, just hang on a little longer." Cas' ears immediately pricked up. Dean sounded distressed. Cas gingerly picked his head up a little bit. Dean looked distressed as well, with a furrowed brow and slightly parted lips. Why? It hit Cas that Dean was distressed because he was worried about him.

Cas bit his lower lip to keep the noises to a minimum.

Dean was twisting and spreading his fingers around, occasionally added more lube to the mix, when he brushed something in Cas that made him yell in a shock of pleasure. "Dean!" He gasped. Dean's head jerked up in surprise. "Dean Winchester, _do that again_," Castiel ordered him. He was light- headed, dizzy, and wanted that sensation over and over again.

Dean figured out what Cas was yelling about pretty quickly and massaged his fingers over that spot as slowly as he could. Teasingly, in a way. This time, a scream dragged itself out of Castiel. Cas was left panting and clenching at the sheets for dear life. Cas lifted his head again to ask Dean to do that again, when he saw something that frankly made him a bit apprehensive.

It was Dean's shit- eating smirk. It was impish. It was mischievous. It was an omen of something very good or very bad. And the way Dean's impossibly green eyes were glittering didn't help. He opened his mouth to ask him what it was when Dean pressed the spot again and twisted his fingers around, slowly, dragging out the sensation more than he had last time. Dean was quite literally toying with his insides, and it was the most deliciously tormenting things he had ever felt in his life. Castiel's head was thrown back to the pillows and his back arched with an ecstatic, pleasantly loud moan. Dean abruptly removed his fingers and applied lube to his dick.

Castiel almost sobbed at the loss of the friction and fullness. He was panting, sweating, and quivering. He was so aroused that it ached. One glance to the foot of the bed told him that Dean felt the same.

Sweet holy God.

Dean had a chip on his shoulder that he totally deserved. Look at this guy. Good- looking to begin with, an amazing hunter, and now look at him. He had an Angel of freakin God writhing and moaning under him because of what he was doing. He was going to take Castiel so hard-

Wait. He couldn't. "Cas," he asked calmly, but the aroused edge in his voice made it sound more like a growl. "Cas, are you still a virgin? I mean, you've never done it like _this_ before, have you?" Cas stilled and looked at Dean guiltily. "No, it's fine," Dean said, reading his expression. God, Cas was hot. "We'll just keep taking this slowly then." After all, Dean's never done it quite like this, either.

Dean applied a little more lube to himself and grabbed the back of Castiel's knees to lift them upwards. Castiel nervously flexed his fingers and grabbed the sheets again. Dean slid into Cas, little by little. Cas squirmed uncomfortably at first. When Dean accidentally brushed his prostate, Cas actually whimpered and bit his lip again to stifle the noises. Dean noticed. "No, Cas, don't hold back, I want to hear you..." That whimper nearly broke Dean's control. Dean bit his own lip to keep it together and drove himself to the hilt inside of Cas.

Jesus. Frigging. Christ.

Castiel was warm inside, and tight enough to create a delicious friction that stroked both men in all the right places without hurting them.

Cas was puffing out little breaths with his eyes screwed shut. Dean stilled once he was completely inside and waited for Cas' okay. Castiel's insides, meanwhile, shifted around and tried to adjust to Dean. His breathing steadied after a moment. His teeth were clenched together, to keep himself at least semi- coherent. He almost snarled at Dean, "Move. Please, Dean."

Music to Dean's ears. His hips rolled backwards and drew out of Cas, waited a moment, the slammed back in and elicited a punched- out, glorious whine from Cas. From there he pulled out and pounded back in. He started slamming in harder and harder and he dropped Cas' knees to hover over him again.

Cas must have let the sheets go, because he could feel Cas digging his fingernails into his back and occasionally raking down his flanks. Once, he slid his hand over the handprint mark that he had make years ago. Undercurrents of Castiel's Grace under Cas flesh reunited with the remaining Grace in Dean's own body. Minute traces of the energy caused tiny shocks of electricity that zinged down to their toes and up to their scalps. Cas moved his hands lower, over Dean's arms, feeling the curve of every muscle. He returned his hands to Dean's back and scratched, unconsciously, brain switched to "off" mode.

Surely, this was Heaven. Dean craned his neck down to Castiel's and left open- mouthed kisses over his throat, Adam's apple, under his ears, the shell of his ear, his collarbone- anywhere he could reach was suckled and worshipped. He pulled a small bit of skin between his teeth, sucked hard- Cas yelped at this- and left a hickey on Cas' shoulder that read; "Property of Dean Winchester, Do Not Touch." Dean could feel a coil low in his groin begin to tighten. He thrusted into Castiel faster and harder.

Cas was close to blasphemy. While he desperately kissed Dean anywhere he could reach while being fucked- mostly Dean's collarbone, the hollow of his throat, and the junction between neck and shoulders- Dean was hitting Castiel's prostate with every other thrust, and a tension was building up in Cas' abdomen. Every other second, something deep inside him swelled, or lurched, or something, and he thought his dick would explode if he didn't release soon. "Dean, I can't-" Cas cut himself off with a moan. Dean's rhythm was unbroken while he reached down to jerk Cas off. "It's okay, baby, let go for me, come for me, Cas, Cas...!"

Dean ended up coming first, though. The combined feelings of Dean coming inside of him, the stimulation to his cock, the closed- eyed expression of Dean's orgasm, and Dean's husky voice encouraging him set Cas off. Cas' back arched off the bed, his black- plumed wings exploded into existence, and when his orgasm hit, all the lights glowed to an impossible level of white brightness before blowing out completely.

The two were totally blind for about two minutes before their eyes adjusted to the dimness of the room. Dean looked around, impressed. "Damn, Cas, that must have been a pretty intense-" Dean saw the black wings mid- sentence and almost had a coronary. Cas was still boneless and catching his breath.

The wings were huge. And soft,like a woman's hair, Dean noted as he gingerly combed his fingers through the feathers. Cas made a sound not unlike a purr as Dean's fingers stroked the plumage. Dean couldn't help it, he grinned. Much better than a woman's hair. Cas blushed and put his wings away. "Scoot over, feathery- ass," he commanded laughingly. Cas smiled sleepily and made room for Dean on the bed. Dean slid into bed behind Cas and slipped an arm around his waist. Cas held the hand that Dean put around him and nuzzled into Dean's chest.

His fingers absently traced the anti- possession tattoo while Dean murmured in his ear how amazing Cas was, how special Cas is, and thank you for saving me, thanks for everything. Somewhere, the warmth, love, and exhaustion got to Cas. His eyes slid shut with Dean holding him against his chest.

At some point, Dean realized that his cute little angel had fallen asleep. His pressed a chaste kiss to his forehead and let himself doze off. "Damn," he thought lazily. "I wanted to check out his wings..."

* * *

><p>Cas woke up first. Well, Angels didn't sleep, so he didn't really "wake up". More like he stopped feeling like a puddle with nerve endings. He was so tempted to just lay there with Dean and never get up again. However, he had a job to do. Heaven was impatient. He slipped out from under Dean's arm and gently touched two fingers to his forehead so he would remain peacefully asleep.<p>

He pulled on his clothes, which felt cold against his skin in comparison to having Dean's arms around him all night. He noticed the heady smell of sex and the state of the bedsheets. He cleaned them using his Grace, even taking the time to warm them a little bit.

Dean snuggled deeper into the fluffy warmth of the bed, and it was so damn cute that Cas couldn't help but grin and chuckle. Dean, still asleep, turned over and his left forearm was slung over the sheets. Cas' smile faded. He crept silently over to the side of the bed and inspected the forearm from where he stood.

If you weren't looking for the scars, you probably would never even know that they were there. But Cas saw criss- crossed layers of skin that had healed over and cut again, in various stages of healing and disappearing. Obvious signs of ritualistic blood- spilling, and self- loathing. Except for five completely clean, perfect stripes where the latest cuts had been inflicted. Somehow, they stood out more amongst the patchwork of lacerations than five cuts would stand out on clean skin. It was akin to pouring bleach on a black shirt.

Perhaps, at some point, Dean would have told him that he felt this way. Maybe. Cas doubted it very much, but it was a possibility, as long as Sam was kept in the dark-

Where the hell was Sam, anyways?

In a split second, Cas knew that Sam had fallen asleep at Bobby's house, and he was using centuries- old text as a pillow. Drooling a little bit, too.

Regardless of whether or not Dean would have confided in him, Cas had found out for himself. It was his job, serving- no, assisting- the Winchesters, even if it meant picking up the broken pieces of Dean and putting them back together, one kiss, one gentle affirmation at a time.

At that thought, Cas immediately thought of that wonderful sex that he and Dean had. Did sex feel like that all the time? Or did it just feel like that with Dean? God had to have approved of their union. There was no way that something could feel that good without his Father's blessing.

Maybe God still cared. Maybe God hadn't given up on His children the way Joshua said he had. Maybe God meant for this to happen. Maybe Castiel didn't have to be ready for some terrible karma for this night with Dean. Maybe, for once, there was no price to pay.

For now, there was just silence, an angel watching over a sleeping man, and a triumphant Hallelujah in Castiel's heart.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: So that was my first bit of published porn! *Achievement unlocked!* Um, well, reviews are gretly appreciated because otherwise I have no idea if that was good or bad or somewhere in between. Have a lovely day!**

**Wait, I have a follower... do you want this story to continue?**


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